Cullen Chronicles
by TwilightAlison
Summary: A series of one-shots involving the Cullens, told from multiple POVs. Mostly pre-Twilight. All loyal to canon. Some will be short, some will be long, some will be multi-parters.
1. We Meet Again Part 1

***Welcome to Chapter 1 of Cullen Chronicles! This is one of the few (maybe only) chapters that won't be told from the Cullens' points of view. It's the first of a two parter. I'd always wondered what exactly happened when the Quileutes realized the Cullens were back in Washington after 70 years. Here's my rendition. The first part is from Billy's point of view and the second will be from Carlisle's.**

**As always, Stephenie Meyer is the master of all things Twilight.**

2003

Billy POV

"And...touchdown for the Cardinals!"

"Ugggghhh!" Charlie and I both groan at the TV as the Cardinals score on the Seahawks yet again. It was embarrassing to lose this badly to one of the worst football teams in the NFL. If I was one of the players, I wouldn't be able to look at myself in the mirror after this game.

The phone rings in the kitchen, and Charlie gets up to answer it. I lean over to the coffee table to refill my paper plate with chips and onion dip. The only downside of Sunday football at Charlie's house is the food. When I watched the game at Harry's, Sue cooked enough to feed twenty grown men, even if there were only three or four people there. My mouth watered at the thought of her three-alarm chili.

"Phone for you," Charlie said, walking back into the living room holding the cordless phone. "It's Rachel. She sounds upset." I set the plate down next to me on the couch and put the phone to my ear.

"Rach? What's wrong?"

"Dad? Rebecca broke her arm! She was putting away dishes, and the kitchen floor was wet, and she slipped. She cut herself when the dishes broke. There's blood everywhere! And her arm looks like it was broken really bad. Jacob said he could see the bone!"

My heart leaped in a brief moment of panic. My own arm started aching in sympathy at the thought of my little girl's suffering. But I had to keep an even head. "Okay, just stay calm, Rachel. How is Rebecca doing? Did she hit her head? Did you call for an ambulance?"

"I am calm, Dad. We have everything under control. Rebecca is fine. She's in a lot of pain, but she's not freaking out. I'm going to drive her to the hospital in Forks in just a second. I don't think she needs all the fuss of an ambulance." I was proud of Rachel for staying so level-headed about Rebecca's injury. A few years ago, something like this would have left her hyperventilating and hysterical. She's really growing up. I'm lucky to have three children who roll with the punches.

"Okay, if you're sure. Charlie and I will head over to the hospital right now, and we'll meet you there." Charlie already had both our coats in one hand and his car keys in the other. "I'll see you in few minutes."

We beat the girls to the hospital by about ten minutes. Fortunately, the emergency room was not busy, so Rebecca received attention right away. In no time at all, her arm was stitched up, X-rayed, and the bone was set.

"Rebecca has a pretty severe break, Mr. Black," a nurse commented. "She may need surgery." I clenched my teeth and swallowed hard in horror at the thought of my baby being cut up. The nurse smiled sympathetically and patted my arm. "Don't worry. Surgery after breaks like this is very common and very safe. Maybe she won't need it at all. Dr. Cullen will be in to check on her in just as soon as he gets out of the OR."

It must have been a long surgery, because we waited for several hours to see Dr. Cullen. Rebecca was in and out of a painkiller-induced sleep while Rachel, Charlie, and I stared at the television in the top corner of the room watching more football. I told Charlie that he could go home, but he insisted on staying for moral support. I think he was equally motivated by not wanting to spend a Sunday afternoon alone in his house.

"Who's this Cullen doc? I thought I knew all the doctors here," I said to Charlie at one point.

"He's new. Just started working here last week. I met him on Wednesday after he treated a woman who'd been beaten up by her idiot boyfriend. Real nice guy. Hard to believe he's a doctor though. He looks like he belongs in college.

Cullen. The name sounded familiar but I couldn't place it. "Where'd he come from?" I asked.

"Alaska. He went to Harvard or Columbia or one of those fancy universities for medical school, but his wife loves small towns. They started out in Alaska and now they came here."

"Huh," was all I said. I had this feeling that I was missing something important. I certainly didn't know any Harvard trained doctors, but I was sure that I'd heard the name Cullen before. I looked forward to the doctor's arrival not only to see if Rebecca needed surgery but to calm the unease I felt.

My confusion only increased when Dr. Cullen entered the room. I was certain that I'd never seen him before. He was strikingly handsome. He was tall and slim with golden blond hair and had strange looking eyes as gold as his hair. And if I noticed his looks, I could only imagine what reaction women had upon meeting him. I looked over and saw Rachel gaping at him open-mouthed with flushed cheeks. Even half-asleep Rebecca was googly-eyed. He smiled warmly and introduced himself to us, nodding at me, but not offering his hand.

He pulled on gloves and began examining Rebecca's arm. She jumped when he touched her. "I'm sorry," she said, her face turning pink, "Your hands are really cold."

"No need to apologize," Dr. Cullen said gently. "The fault is mine. I washed my hands just before coming in here, and I'm afraid the water always makes them cold."

The reference to cold hands made me feel even more anxious. Why would that be important? I rolled my wheelchair back to get a better view of Dr. Cullen. Charlie was right; the doctor looked very young. In fact, he didn't look much older than my seventeen year old daughters. Yet he seemed very comfortable and confident as he examined Rebecca's arm, more like a veteran doctor than a recent graduate.

"How do you like Forks so far, Dr. Cullen?" Rebecca asked groggily. The painkillers were making it hard for her to keep her eyes open, but she clearly didn't want to look away from the handsome doctor's face.

"It's a beautiful area. My family and I have been spending every spare moment exploring the forest."

"Your family?" Charlie asked from the corner of the room. "Do you and your wife have children?"

"We do," the doctor responded as he gingerly lifted Rebecca's arm. "Five teenagers, actually. We've taken them in at various times over the years when their parents couldn't watch over them. They're in ninth and tenth grades over at the high school." Rebecca and Rachel gasped in surprise, and Charlie shook his head in amazement.

"Five teenagers. I bet that keeps you busy," Charlie laughed. The doctor nodded his head, laughing lightly.

Something clicked in my head. I looked at Dr. Cullen again and noticed his pallor. His looks. His youth. His eyes. Stories repeated time and time again by my grandfather and the elders on the council rushed through my mind. What an idiot I was to not recognize him before. How many times had I heard the name Cullen, the coven of five yellow-eyed vampires who signed the treaty with my grandfather? A vampire was touching my daughter's arm, which still had dried blood on it!

My heart started racing, and my hands shook in my lap. I stared at Cullen with wide, horrified eyes. He looked up and met my eyes for an instant before looking down again. His face betrayed no reaction to my terror, but I was sure he understood.

"Well, Rebecca, I think we are going to have to operate on your arm," Cullen said when he finished his examination. "It's the only way to be sure that the bone heals correctly."

I took a deep breath and stared at the vampire more calmly. "I'd like another surgeon to perform the operation," I said. I noticed Charlie staring at me with eyes narrowed in suspicion and quickly added, "Someone with more experience."

Cullen did not look at all surprised at my objection. "Of course," he said smoothly. "I'll speak to Dr. Snow about it when his shift begins in a few hours. The surgery should be done as soon as possible, and I'll be out for the next few days anyway." Cullen recorded notes in the chart attached to the end of Rebecca's bed for a moment and then left the room with a polite goodbye.

My daughters turned on me as soon as the vampire left the room.

"Dad!" Rachel hissed. "Why'd you have to be so mean to Dr. Cullen? He was only trying to help." I didn't like the glazed look that came over her eyes when she said the vampire's name.

"Yeah, Dad," Rebecca slurred, eyes starting to close. "So rude."

I shrugged my shoulders and grunted. With my muddled thoughts, I couldn't come up with a reasonable, veiled explanation other than shouting out that he was a vampire. Not only would that break the treaty which my grandfather signed, but Charlie and my daughters would think I was insane. I needed to talk to the council. Until then, I would say nothing.

***What did you think? Please R & R!**


	2. We Meet Again Part 2

**We Meet Again Part 2**

***And now we see what happens when the modern Quileutes meet the Cullens.**

**While I wish I was Stephenie Meyer, I am not. She owns all things Twilight.**

Carlisle POV

"The Quileutes want to meet with you," Alice announced as she walked into my study. "Billy Black will call and leave a message on your office voice mail tomorrow morning."

I set down the latest edition of JAMA that I'd been reading and tilted my head up to look at her. "Do you see any problems with them? Has anything changed?" Alice shook her head no. Before we decided to return to the Olympic peninsula, Alice had searched every possible future available at the time in regards to the Quileutes. Every path she saw showed their fear and anger of our presence, but nothing that threatened our anonymity.

"It was only a matter of time before they found out about our arrival," I continued with a sigh. "Fortunately, the werewolf line seems to have died out. Even though they were reasonable men, I'd rather not revisit that part of our past."

Our initial meeting with the werewolves had been memorable, to say the least. Edward and I were hunting in the forest north of our home in Hoquiam. We'd only been in Washington for a month, so we were still exploring the surrounding area. Unknowingly, we wandered into the edge of the Quileute reservation during our hunting trip, about ten miles from the closest village. Three werewolves caught our scent. If Edward hadn't been able to hear their thoughts a few miles away, we never would have escaped. As it was, we ran at top speed for about twenty miles with them rapidly gaining on us. They only stopped the chase when we jumped into the ocean and swam south, away from the reservation. It was one of the most terrifying moments of my very long life.

Luckily, the Quileutes stopped to think rather than immediately coming down to Hoquiam to attack all five of us. The reprieve gave us enough time to convince them that we were different than the vampires they'd encountered in the past and to negotiate a treaty. Despite the tentative peace between us, we did not tarry in Hoquiam long. Emmett was barely a year old when we arrived, and his ability to control his thirst fluctuated widely. We left Washington only a year after arriving. We loved the climate and hunting opportunities and didn't want an unintentional breach of the treaty to prevent our ability to return again later.

"Thank you, as always, Alice for your help. We wouldn't have been able to return here comfortably without your sight."

"You know me, always happy to help," she chirped. She paused for a moment and stared at my clothes: khaki trousers and a blue and white striped Oxford shirt under a gray cashmere sweater. I suppressed a grimace as I waited for her ubiquitous comments on my apparel. Sure enough, she flitted closer to my desk and leaned toward me with big, innocent eyes. "If you really want to show me that you're thankful, Carlisle, you'll let me buy you some new clothes. Brooks Brothers is nice, but so boring. You need some variety in your life. Something more...experimental."

It was useless to refuse her. Alice was incredibly persistent when she set her mind to something, especially when it came to dressing us. Delaying the inevitable only made her ideas more grandiose, and to those of us who were not interested in fashion, more distasteful. Tempering her enthusiasm was the best I could hope for. "If you insist," I said with a sigh. "As long as I don't have to come with you. And if you remember that I'm a doctor trying to look ten years older than I actually am, and that I'm a 350 year old vampire who's rather intimidated by modern styles of clothing."

"Thank you!" She leaned over my desk, her feet dangling off the floor, and kissed me on the cheek. "You'll love everything I find." Her eyes glazed over for a second, and she corrected herself. "Or even if you don't love it, you'll at least wear it."

When I arrived at the hospital the next evening, the message from Billy Black was waiting for me. I called him back and arranged to meet him and another Quileute elder three days later in a cafe on Main Street. I suggested that we meet in my office at the hospital where we could have a private conversation on neutral ground, but the Quileutes were uncomfortable being alone with us. I felt sorry for them. Without the werewolf gene, we held all the advantages in our tenuous relationship. They could not physically defend their tribe against us if we chose to violate the treaty. They could divulge our secret, but no one would believe them, and our natures could not be proved unless we directly attacked someone. It was not a position that I would want to be in.

Edward agreed to accompany me to the meeting with the Quileutes. I needed his ability to watch the Quileutes' intentions and to ensure that no one overheard our conversation. The Quileutes knew that Edward could read their minds when they were in wolf form. We weren't sure if they realized that he could also read minds of anyone other than werewolves.

Esme called the school the morning of our meeting excusing Edward from class due to a dentist's appointment. Missing school made Edward the envy of his siblings. "We've barely been in school for a month and you already get to ditch!" Emmett moaned as he walked into the garage. "The mind reader gets all the perks."

"I'll happily trade abilities with you, Emmett," Edward quipped. "I'll even let you keep Rosalie. Although after you've heard her mind, you may not want to." I could hear Rosalie hissing at him from her car.

Edward and I arrived at the cafe shortly before 10 AM. We'd picked an off hour hoping that the restaurant would be largely deserted. We parked in a shady spot a few doors down from the cafe. The sky was a mixture of white, fluffy clouds and blue sky. It was not sunny enough to trap us indoors, but we had to be careful where we walked. We stayed under the shadows cast by the eaves of the buildings along the road.

I noticed Billy Black and the other elder watching us from inside the cafe as we walked past its windows toward the door. Edward smirked, "They're wondering how we can walk within a few feet of sunny ground. Apparently, their legends don't explain what happens in the sun. They're hoping we trip and burn to a crisp."

_Hmm...I'm curious about how thorough their legends are about us. That's a fairly fundamental quality to miss._

Edward shrugged. "I imagine they only know what tribe members observed about the ones they encountered. We certainly didn't tell them anything they didn't need to know, and they didn't give anyone else a chance to explain things."

We entered the cafe and walked to the table in the back of the room where the Quileutes were sitting. Thankfully, they had the foresight to pick a booth with no other diners nearby. They stared at us with stony, blank faces as we slid onto the bench across from them, but I heard their heartbeats increase and the sweet scent of adrenaline radiated from their pores. They were understandably terrified.

I felt another surge of pity toward these two men. They must have had a nasty surprise over the past few days. Surely, they'd heard the stories of the tribe's past with vampires and the treaty with the Cullens from their grandparents and other elders. They likely dismissed the legends as fantastical stories told by superstitious old men. Billy Black must have been shocked to meet me, a man who fit exactly the stories he'd been told his entire life. The legends must have been told in great detail since he recognized me so quickly.

Billy Black introduced the other Quileute elder as Harry Clearwater. He grunted a stiff reply to our obligatory "nice to meet you's," and the four of us sat in awkward silence until the waitress came to take our order. Edward asked for a Coke while the Quileutes and I ordered coffee. The waitress lingered at our table. She was college-aged and ecstatic to meet a young man as handsome as Edward. She fired questions at him. She was surprisingly nonplussed to discover he was only in the ninth grade.

I used the distraction to focus on the Quileutes' scent. Both scents reflected the woody area where they resided, a mixture pine, moss, and grass. Billy's scent had a hint of blackberries while Harry's reminded me of ocean air. But ultimately, they both smelled like an other human. I was disappointed. I had hoped that their scent would carry some element of their ancestors' revolting dog smell. I'd wondered if the werewolf gene, even when unexpressed, made them noticeably distinct. Apparently, it did not. Edward's lips tilted upward just barely in amusement at my irritation.

_Laugh if you will, Edward, but I bet the same thought would have crossed your mind at some point_. He pursed his lips, still with the hint of a smile, a look that meant he was just as guilty as I was, but didn't want to admit it. I took a deep breath and pushed aside the thoughts of werewolf influence. It was irresponsible to let my curiosity get in the way of my duties to my family.

The waitress ran back to the kitchen, poured our drinks, and scurried back to our booth with nearly inhuman speed. She was almost hopping with pent-up questions. Thankfully, her manager hollered at her to attend to a group of hikers who'd just walked in and she reluctantly dragged herself away.

It was time to get this conversation started. I began to learn forward in a natural manner that humans interpreted as friendly and open. Edward put a hand on my knee and quickly muttered, "They won't want you any closer than you already are." I nodded slightly and pushed my back against the red vinyl booth seat. I wasn't accustomed to conversations with humans who knew what I was. Standard niceties logically wouldn't apply.

"Mr. Black. Mr. Clearwater. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us," I began in a soft voice, nodding at each man. "I am sorry if our arrival startled you. We have every intention of upholding the agreement we made with your tribe in the past."

The Quileutes glanced at each other from the corners of their eyes, as if they were arguing over who was going to speak first. After a moment of silence, Mr. Black opened his mouth, pausing briefly before speaking. "If that's the case...Dr. Cullen," he both sneered and shuddered slightly upon saying my name, "why did you choose to live so close to our land? You could have moved to Hoquiam, Sequim, Port Angeles, or many other towns further away. It seems like you are purposely challenging the treaty."

"I apologize. That wasn't our intention at all. For obvious reasons, it is difficult for us to return to a town where we've lived before. Forks was a good distance away from our previous home, there was an open position at the hospital, and the town is within the boundaries to which we agreed."

The Quileutes did not have anything to say in response. I could hear Mr. Clearwater grinding his teeth and Mr. Black was tapping the fingernail of his left index finger on the table with such fervor that it sounded like our booth was being attacked by a woodpecker.

"I take it you've seen a copy of our agreement and the map marking the boundaries," I said. The men stared at the table for a moment before Mr. Clearwater spoke.

"We do have the treaty. But the map was lost in a fire some years ago." He grimaced and flushed slightly, clearly embarrassed. So that was the reason that Alice drew out the map last night and handed it to Edward this morning. We didn't have our original copy of the map either. We'd destroyed the bulky document in lieu of packing during one of our more hurried moves. Of course, we remembered it perfectly so did not feel the need to preserve it as carefully as a signed agreement.

Edward took the map out of his pocket, unfolded it, and pushed it toward the Quileutes with his fingertips, making it clear that he was not trying to get close to them. He tapped his unwrapped straw against the paper, using it as a pointer. "This line represents the boundary. It follows the river until here," he said, dragging the straw along the dark blue line, "where the boundary veers off track to circle the reservation. Our home is here." He jabbed the straw against a dark red X. "The part of the map shaded green is the reservation, the blue shaded area is the land beyond the reservation that's on your side. The yellow shaded area is our side."

_The highway, Edward_.

"The brown line paralleling the boundary is the highway. It wasn't there when the map was originally drawn. We had to redraw the boundary slightly to account for it and several other new roads and buildings. You'll notice the red lines. They represent the old boundary. The blue line is the new boundary. Wherever there was a discrepancy, we resolved it in your favor. You have about ten square miles of new land. We assumed you wouldn't mind." He pushed the map closer to the men with his straw.

Mr. Clearwater waited until Edward's hand was safely back under the table before picking up the map. He and Mr. Black examined it closely before nodding their assent and setting it back on the table. Mr. Black looked as though he was about to begin speaking when Edward suddenly reached out, snatched the map away from the Quileutes, and put it in his pocket. The Quileutes couldn't see his arm moving, but once they realized the map had literally disappeared before their eyes, their mouths dropped open and their hearts sped. I looked at Edward questioningly, and he inclined his head towards the waitress, who was walking in our direction.

"Can I bring you gentleman anything else?" the waitress chirped. She looked at the Quileutes with vague disinterest and then turned to us, her eyelashes batting like hummingbird wings. "Are you interested in a morning snack? Our chef's lemon poppyseed muffins won the award for best baked goods at the state fair last year. You really shouldn't miss them."

"Thank you, but coffee is all I need this morning," I said, shielding the mug with my hand so she wouldn't notice that I hadn't drank anything.

"No thank you," Edward added. "I'm not hungry right now." His business-like demeanor dropped for a second and was replaced by a slight smirk as the Quileutes glanced at him uneasily. The waitress reluctantly left our table, and Edward handed the map back to Mr. Black with apologies.

"You mentioned the other day that there were seven of you," Billy Black said as he placed the folded map into his back pocket. "Only five signed the treaty."

"Yes, two more joined us some years ago. They will uphold the treaty as well," I said. Mr. Black stared at me with clear disapproval in his eyes and clenched his fists. I worried for a moment. Alice didn't see her and Jasper's presence affecting the Quileutes' adherence to the treaty, but perhaps their decision was changing.

Edward spoke softly and quickly, "They joined us of their own accord. Both lived on their own for a long time and wanted a more peaceful life. They are as reliable as we are." Well, perhaps not quite. But Jasper certainly tried. The Quileutes visibly relaxed as Edward answered some unspoken question. They must have thought that we had changed two humans into vampires and feared that we might do so again.

"If you would feel more comfortable," I added, "We could meet again and have them add their signatures to the treaty."

"I don't," Mr. Black glanced quickly at Mr. Clearwater, who shook his head, "think that will be necessary at this time."

"Thank you. Do you have any other questions for us?" I asked. The Quileutes shook their heads slowly. I imagined that they had many questions for us, principally when we planned to move away, but were as inclined as I was to end this awkward meeting. Edward and I stood, and I started to extend my hand toward the men before remembering Edward's earlier admonition. I settled for a polite nod and thanks for attending the meeting.

We quickly paid for the four drinks and walked out of the cafe to our car. Edward snatched the keys out of my pocket and shook them in front of my face. "Learner's permit, remember?" He grinned and winked. "I'll never learn if I don't practice."

Once we were in the car and inching along the town speed trap, I said: _I thought that went as well as it could have gone. What did you think of them?_

"They reminded me a lot of their ancestors."

_Yes, they seem like reasonable men._

"Hmm...I didn't think Ephraim Black was nearly as reasonable as he was smart. If there'd been five wolves and three vampires, we'd be long gone. But since there were five immortals and three ancient canines, he thought it wiser to form a truce rather than risk being killed and leaving his people defenseless. Even after the treaty, the wolves happily would have killed us if they could have done so safely. You know that."

I nodded reluctantly. It was not a friendly truce. _And Mr. Black and Mr. Clearwater?_

Edward laughed sharply. "If thoughts could kill... They were furious at their ancestors for not destroying us when they had the chance. Five to three odds are pretty good in comparison to seven to zero. I've never seen two people more fervently wish to transform into animals. They didn't think we deserve amnesty for being good citizens. We're monsters through and through."

I sighed. I'd seen far too many innocent people die at the hands of my father to believe any creature inherently evil enough to deserve death simply for existing. But it was hard to see a monster as anything but if he never had a chance to be good. Perhaps this time we could show the Quileutes through example that vampires could be respected, not just feared. If they gave us a chance.

***Please R & R!**


	3. Woof, Woof

**Woof, Woof**

**While I wish I was Stephenie Meyer, I am not. She owns all things Twilight.**

**Edward POV, Late 1970s-Early 1980s**

_Have you read anything interesting lately? No, he'll just think I'm a bookish nerd. Who do you think will win the World Series next week? No, I don't even know which teams are playing. Ughh! There's nothing I can say to him that doesn't sound stupid. But we can't walk all the way home in silence. He'll think I'm a social misfit. Think, Joanna, think!_

No, Joanna, don't think. I like you best when you keep your mouth shut.

I'd only been walking with Joanna Collins for five minutes and already I was ready to strangle her. And we had at least twenty more minutes of agonizingly slow walking to go. I swear I saw a caterpillar shuffle past us a moment ago.

I was paired with Joanna for an English project. We had to present a report on David Copperfield on Friday and needed to spend the afternoon preparing a poster and practicing our lines. I suggested we meet in an empty classroom at school or the diner on main street that all the teenagers frequented. She insisted, however, that her parents made her go home directly after school every day and that we could only meet at her house. From her thoughts, I gathered that this was basically true, although she knew her mother would probably allow her to stay at school late for a project. She fantasized that being alone with me at her house would lead to candlelit dinners, gently kisses on the porch, and eventually a springtime wedding amongst blooming lilacs. So she stuck with the ridiculously inflexible parents story.

Joanna's plan to bond on the long walk home wasn't working so well thus far. I was irritated about having to walk at all. I'd asked...begged really...Alice to drop us off at Joanna's home as she and Jasper drove home, but she refused. The reason was perfectly clear. Jasper. Car. Re-circulating air. Human. Not a pretty sight. Both Alice and I were officially fifteen years old. Jasper, being "sixteen," was our only driver, since Rosalie and Emmett had chosen to forgo high school for a few years. As long as Jasper was in the car, it would have to stay human free.

Trying to drown out Joanna's still fruitless attempts at starting an intelligible conversation, I focused on Alice's cryptic goodbye. She promised that she and Jasper would be there to pick me up at 6 PM. And then her face lit with a mischievous grin. An image flew through her mind for a split second of Alice laughing and snapping a picture with a camera..

"What was that?" I asked. I concentrated on her mind for any further visions. "Is something going to happen tonight?

Alice just shook her head and pressed her lips together tightly. The thoughts running through her head were drowned out by the high-pitched, wobbly vibrato of a soprano singing a poor version of a Mozart aria.

"Alice!" I moaned. "You know I hate opera. Stop that."

_Then stop listening_. She smiled angelically at me and ran out of the room, a little faster than necessary. I couldn't imagine what she was hiding. It couldn't be anything dangerous given the camera and her enthusiasm at coming to get me. Was Joanna going to try to kiss me? No, that would be far too awkward and risky to be humorous. It's not like I would be tripping down the front porch steps. The prospect of impending humiliation made my afternoon even less enjoyable, if that was possible.

The remainder of our long walk to Joanna's house was better than expected. Joanna came up with a few topics that she thought made her seem attractive and fascinating. I initially answered in the shortest sentences possible to keep the conversation brief without seeming too rude, but we soon discovered that we were both a fan of old movies, particularly those starring Jimmy Stewart. We had an animated debate over whether his best film was Mr. Smith Goes To Washington (her favorite) or Harvey (my favorite). Perhaps the afternoon wouldn't be as intolerable as I feared.

A few minutes before arriving at her house, a memory ran through Joanna's head of a brown and white spotted English springer spaniel running down the stairs, out the front door, leaping on her, and licking her all over face until she laughingly pushed it away. I closed my eyes and silently groaned. Oh no. A dog. Why hadn't I thought to ask her about pets earlier?

"Joanna, do you by chance have a dog?"

"Yeah, I do," she answered, her face lighting up. "Her name is Pansy. She's the nicest dog in the world. You'll love her. Everyone does."

Even worse. A friendly dog. It would be more difficult to explain why she cowered and yelped the moment I came near.

I needed to come up with some excuse to keep the dog far away. "Umm...This is kind of embarrassing, Joanna, but I'm really scared of dogs. I was chased by a few when I was younger and just barely escaped being attacked by them. Now they all terrify me. They must realize that I'm afraid, because dogs seem to hate me too. Would you mind putting Pansy away before I come inside?"

Joanna was troubled. On one hand, she was thrilled that I'd chosen to confide in her a deep, dark secret. But she was crestfallen that I would miss the opportunity to get to know the world's best dog and she would have to spend two whole hours away from the stupid mongrel.

"Are you sure? She wouldn't hurt a fly. My dad always says that she would welcome a burglar in and lead him straight to my mom's jewelry."

"I'm sorry. I'm sure she's just as nice as you say, but I really don't like being around any dogs." Joanna reluctantly agreed to put the dog in the backyard before I came in the house. I stood on outside the front door while she carried Pansy from the entryway to the back porch, hugging, kissing, and apologizing to the dog the entire time. It was humiliating to pretend to be terrified of a springer spaniel. Why couldn't she have a doberman pinscher instead? At least I could have retained a modicum of dignity. Oh well. Better to thought a shaking coward than a soulless demon.

The afternoon passed quickly. Neither of us were talented at visual arts, but we put together a decent poster highlighting Charles Dickens and the plot of David Copperfield. Joanna prepared an unintentionally hilarious, overly melodramatic soliloquy by the dying Dora. And I put together a decent monologue spoken by "umble" Uriah Heap. My revelation as a non-dog-lover extinguished most of Joanna's romantic interests, so her mind was actually tolerable to listen to. By six o'clock, our presentation was completely finished and rehearsed.

Joanna and I sat down on the front steps of her porch to wait for Alice and Jasper. They arrived about five minutes later. Alice was reciting the rivers in Brazil in reverse alphabetical order. Xingu...Uruguay...Uatuma... . What she was hiding? Maybe I didn't want to know. Although I did.

I stood up to walk to the car, but Alice shouted in her head, _No, no, no! Wait right there._I froze in my tracks. What could be wrong? Was Jasper going to lose control? That couldn't be it. She'd want me there to help. Was I going to lose control? That didn't make sense either. She'd want me to get away as fast as possible.

Just when I thought I was going to go insane from curiosity, Alice hopped out of the car with a camera hanging from her neck. There was a strong wind, and her scent hit me immediately. A few seconds later, I heard wild barking and howling from the side of the yard. Pansy smelled a vampire. Oddly, her barks sounded more excited than panicked. I watched in horror as Pansy took a running leap and flew over the two foot high picket fence. She galloped towards us, her floppy ears flared out like wings, her tongue hanging out of her mouth, and her legs moving so fast that she barely touched the ground.

_Don't move, Edward!_Alice shouted just before I turned to run inside. What kind of crazy plan did she have?

Pansy ran straight at me and attacked me with affection. She jumped on my leg, tail wagging like mad, her entire body wriggling with excitement. She licked my hand and my trousers repeatedly. I was utterly speechless. This wasn't supposed to happen. I bent down to scratch the dog's ear. Pansy grinned and pushed her head closer to me to make me scratch harder.

"Edward! Smile!" Alice hollered. I looked up with a shocked grin on my face, and Alice snapped a picture just as Pansy slurped my face with her big, wet tongue. So that was the vision.

"See?" Joanna smiled, as she tried to elbow me in the ribs (I stepped out of way). "She loves you. There's nothing to be afraid of."

The dog turned from me to Alice when I stopped scratching her ear. Alice bent down and pretending to be knocked backwards when the dog leaped on her. I could hear Jasper gasp from the car. Pansy covered Alice's face with kisses and then turned over onto her back and practically begged Alice to rub her belly. Alice was beyond ecstatic. She had never touched a dog (except for a few times when wildlife was scarce, but that was hardly the same).

Alice and even Jasper mentally shouted at me to take some pictures. Alice handed me the camera to her, and I snapped a photo of her rubbing the dog's belly and then one of her kneeling with the dog's front paws on her shoulders, giving each other a big hug.

I looked back at Joanna, who was beaming at Pansy like a proud parent. "Pansy is an unusual dog. I wasn't kidding when I said dogs normally hate me," I said. "Has she always been this...welcoming of strangers?"

"She's been like this ever since we got her," Joanna replied. "I found her on the side of the road one day. She'd been hit by a car and would have bled to death if my mom and I hadn't taken her to the vet so quickly. Amazingly, she made a full recovery." Hmm...maybe not a full recovery. She clearly lost a significant amount of brain cells if she thought two predators were her newest best friends. At least that explained her exuberance.

"She's the nicest dog I've ever met," Alice exclaimed. "Would you mind taking a picture of Edward and me with Pansy, Joanna?" Joanna agreed and Alice and I sat next to each other on the ground with Pansy stretched out on her back between both our laps. When Joanna snapped the picture, Alice had a huge mid-laughter smile while mine was still the confused, surprised grin. It had definitely been a unique afternoon.

***Since I'm a dog lover, I thought it would be fun to come up with a (brain-damaged) dog who would actually let the Cullens get near it.**

***Please R&R!**


	4. Future Little Housewives

**Future Little Housewives**

***As always, Stephenie Meyer is the master of all things Twilight.**

**Alice POV, 1950s**

_Mash two bananas with a fork._I carefully pulled back the banana peels, which were dark brown with only a few spots of yellow, and plopped the fruit into the mixing bowl. I smashed the two bananas into the bowl until they were a mass of sticky, sickly sweet, vomit-hued mush. How could humans eat this?

I was in home economics, the most miserable hour of my day. It was entirely unfair that all girls in this school were required to take home ec. We spent one day per week listening to mind-numbing lectures on child development, two days sewing, and two days cooking. I hate cooking. I have no talent for it, no interest in it, and no need for it. Yet, two days a week I had to bake up some masterpiece that usually turned out horribly wrong.

As much as I despised being in the kitchen, it was better than sewing. When I first attended school, I was more excited for sewing class than any other. I enjoy sewing almost as much as I enjoy designing clothes. What a disappointment. I quickly learned that the joy of sewing was sucked away when I was stuck in the Land O' Pricked Fingers. I often had to run out of the room just before blood started flowing. Some days, I'd foresee so many needle pricks that I would skip class altogether. When I was in class, I was so focused on studying the future of my classmates, searching for any possibilities of needles piercing the skin, that my own stitches were slow and uneven, and I had an irritating tendency to snap needles. The teacher hated me.

_Mix in 1 egg, 1/2 cup milk... _I flung ingredients into the bowl, not watching what I was doing. Instead, I flipped through images of the near future. Edward warned me to watch out for Emmett in the hallway last hour. He wasn't having a good day. We hadn't hunted in a week, and the thirst was affecting all of us. Mostly, it just resulted in snapping at each other more frequently, but ever since Emmett's slip-up last year, he had much more difficulty resisting.

If a week's abstention from hunting made Emmett's control this tenuous, I didn't see how Jasper would ever be able to handle school. Despite the occasional accident, Emmett's control was excellent. Not as freakishly good as Carlisle, Edward, and Rosalie, but impressive nonetheless. It was better than mine. If I couldn't foresee situations where I'd be tempted by blood and remove myself from them in advance, I'd have far more accidents than I did.

I watched the future of Emmett and everyone around him. He was slumped in his chair, staring at the teacher. No movement other than arching his chest forward every few seconds to look like he was breathing. I flipped through the rest of class. Was anyone going to walk too close to him? Was the teacher going to call on him, forcing him to take a breath in order to talk? Would anyone get a papercut? If I foresaw anything troubling, Edward or I would find a reason to get him out of the room before it happened. So far, I saw nothing. But humans are always making little, instantaneous decisions that can have big consequences for thirsty vampires, so I kept watching.

_1/2 cup brown sugar, and 1/2 cup sugar... _I blindly spooned large scoops of sugar into measuring cups. A flicker appeared before me of a girl getting up to sharpen her pencil and brushing Emmett's shoulder as she walked down the aisle. I stiffened.

_Edward! Do you see that?_ I called out to him. He was watching my visions closely from his classroom upstairs. We had one minute before she left her seat. Edward decided to go get Emmett, but I kept watching to see if it would actually be necessary. I saw Emmett's muscles tensing when the girl touched him, but no movement towards her. Was that the only possibility? I pushed my visions, double-checking every angle. He would either sit entirely still or put his head down on his desk, using the wood to cover his mouth and nose. I saw the girl sharpen her pencil and walk back to her seat using a different aisle without incident. _I think it's safe, Edward. But maybe you should stand outside the door just in case something changes_.

A quick image flashed of Rosalie coming over to me hissing about something. I looked at her with suspicious eyes just as she was walking towards me from her spot two ovens over.

"Watch what you're doing!" she whispered. "You just poured a 1/2 cup of salt into the bowl! And now you're stirring it in. Don't tell me you can't tell the different between salt and sugar." I picked up the spoon I was using to mix the ingredients and sniffed at it. Sure enough, the scent of salt was overwhelming and the individual crystals were the six sided cubes of salt. Sugar and salt may look and smell identical to humans, but to me they were very distinct. Salt has an earthy smell that always makes me think of oceans and sweat. Sugar smells cloying to vampire senses, but something about it reminds me of the sweetness of human blood. I can understand why so many humans crave the taste.

I put the spoon down back into the bowl and look at the ingredients on the counter. The containers of brown sugar, white sugar, and salt were sitting next to one another. I must have grabbed the salt instead of the sugar.

"Whoops." I shrugged. "Guess I ruined another recipe. Oh well." I turned my back on Rosalie, hoping she would return to her station. But her mood was as bad as mine today and she wasn't willing to let her irritation go.

"Didn't you see yourself screwing up?" she sneered. "For someone who's practically omniscient, you sure - "

"You're right, Rose. I wasn't watching the damn bowl," I interrupted in a harsh whisper, spinning around to look her in the face. "Instead, I was watching _your _Emmett's every move. While you're stirring away at your perfect little recipe, Edward and I are making sure he doesn't do anything that will have us packing our bags. Since you've made it clear that you hate moving." I practically spat out the words. I could see my black eyes, glistening, and narrowed with anger, reflected in Rosalie's eyes. The girl at the oven next to me turned to stare. Our voices were too low and fast for her to understand the words, but she still shrank away when she noticed the fierce look on my face.

A guilty expression flashed on Rosalie's face for an instant before being replaced with a familiar hardened look. "Well, you should have told me that earlier," she said dismissively. "I could have helped you. But now it's too late to fix anything."

"Yes, it's too late. So just leave me alone and let me get back watching your hus- boyfriend."

"Do you want me to - " She spoke in a smaller, slightly guilty voice.

"No! Go away!" I was tempted to give her a shove, but didn't see her reacting to that well. Rosalie turned on her heel, flicking her ponytail in my face, and walked back to her station. I spent the rest of the hour flipping back and forth between images of Emmett and my cooking stations. Emmett's face would alternate between a blank, bored expression and brief flashes of pain as the fire in his throat flickered. But fortunately the class would pass without bloodletting. My banana bread came together with no further incidents. It looked normal enough, but I'm sure it would taste inedible to humans.

Rosalie came back to my station just before I put the bread in the oven, carrying her pan of unbaked bread. Her head was down and her shoulders slumped slightly. "Switch pans with me, Alice," she said quietly.

"What?" I asked. My voice was harsher than I meant it to be, but I was still annoyed with her.

"Let me bake your bread instead of mine. That way your grade won't suffer."

"It's fine, Rose," I said resignedly. "I really don't care about my home ec grade."

"Please, Alice." Rosalie had a slightly desperate look in her eye. "Look, I'm sorry that I snapped at you, and I'm sorry that you're stuck watching over all of us. I can't help you with that, but this is something I can do." An apology from Rosalie. That was about as rare as a penguin in Florida. I'm sure Edward was enjoying the moment as much as I was.

"Okay," I said slowly. "If that will make you feel better. I appreciate the gesture." She smiled, happy to have a reason to not feel guilty anymore. We set our pans on the counter next to one another. When no one was looking, I grabbed her pan and put it in the oven. She took my salt-laden bread back to her station to bake.

The bread took an hour to bake, so our teacher took the loaves out of the oven and tasted them later that day. Rosalie and I came to class the next day with bright, golden eyes. We all hunted the night before. The difference in our thirst and our moods was significant. Emmett's thirst was dampened enough that I could stay in the present all day long, or at least to the extent that I was naturally capable of doing so. Rosalie even laughed when Edward teased us about the bread-switching incident.

Just before we walked into the home economics room, I handed Rosalie a handkerchief.

"What's this for?" she asked.

"You're coming down with a cold," I responded. She stared at me in confusion. "Trust me." Rosalie shrugged and took the handkerchief. She threw herself into a dramatic coughing fit as we entered the room. People turned to stare. She kept up the act with sniffles and sneezes once we sat down at the table we shared at the back of the room.

"This is kind of fun," she whispered. "Better than having an actual cold." I wouldn't know. Being sick didn't sound very enjoyable, but I was curious how it would feel to have a stuffy nose and a sore throat. I wondered if the sore throats that humans had during a cold felt anything like the razor-slicing, hot coal pain I felt every day. I doubted it.

"Rosalie Hale!" Our teacher glared at Rosalie. "Come up here, please." Rosalie stood up and walked meekly to the front of the room. The teacher was standing at a table with two identical-looking loaves of bread, both with one slice missing. "One of these loaves is the bread that you baked, and the other is one that your classmate baked. I want you to take a bite of each and tell me what the difference is."

The teacher handed Rosalie two bite sized pieces of bread. Rosalie put one piece of bread in her mouth and then immediately sneezed. She brought the handkerchief to her mouth, quickly spit out the bread, and hid it in the folds of the fabric. She did the same upon eating the second piece of bread, only coughing instead of sneezing.

"I don't know what the difference is, Mrs. Murphy," Rosalie said innocently. "I came down with a terrible cold this morning. I can't taste a thing!" Mrs. Murphy sighed loudly, frustrated that her teaching point was thwarted.

"All right. Let's see if one of your classmates can tell the difference. Who wants to come up here and taste the bread?" No one moved. It was obvious that something was wrong with Rosalie's bread, and none of the girls wanted to volunteer.

"I'll do it," I said and skipped to the front of the room. Rosalie looked at me sympathetically. I didn't have a handkerchief to spit out the bread. I was stuck with chewing and swallowing the nasty human food. But since the salty bread was my fault, I figured it was worthy penance. It was easy to distinguish the two breads from their scents. When I put the sweet bread into my mouth, I hid my grimace when the foul, bitter taste hit my tongue and gamely swallowed. I shivered slightly as the lump slid down my esophagus toward my stomach where it would sit until I threw it back up. I didn't bother hiding a grimace as I chewed the salty bread. It tasted the same as the sweet bread did to me, perhaps even a tiny bit better. I suppose I could have spit it out as part of the act, but if I was already throwing up one bite of food, I might as well throw up two. I kept the horrified look on my face and said, "I think this one has too much salt."

"That's right," the teacher said, smirking in satisfaction at her attempt to humiliate Rosalie. "How many times have I told all of you girls to double check that you're adding sugar and not salt? If you," she raised an eyebrow at Rosalie, "had been baking this for your future husband's business colleagues, you might have caused him a great deal of embarrassment and maybe threatened his career. I cannot emphasize enough how important it is to be a competent baker. You girls will all be baking things for your husbands, your children, your neighbors, your children's classrooms. It will bring shame upon your entire family if people choke upon the things you make for them. Is that what you want?"

"No," Rosalie grumbled, staring at the ground. Her good mood evaporated the instant foolish, self-righteous Mrs. Murphy brought up the idea of children and family.

"Rosalie's an excellent cook, Mrs. Murphy," I spoke up. "You have nothing to worry about her. I'm the one who usually screws up, you know." She nodded slightly, remembering my past failed assignments. "I baked gingerbread for my family last weekend," I continued. "I accidentally added soy sauce to the dough instead of molasses. This salty banana bread tastes a lot better than the gingerbread did."

Mrs. Murphy looked shocked. "How in the world did you manage to mix up soy sauce and molasses? They're completely different."

"I don't know. They're both dark, I guess," I shrugged my shoulders and grinned like a typical flighty teenager.

Mrs. Murphy put her right hand up to her eyes, squeezed them shut, and groaned. "All right, girls. Since you both clearly need _a lot _of practice, I am giving you a mandatory extra-credit project. You will both make your family a full dinner, bake a cake, and a loaf of yeast bread. You will bring back a note from your mother next Monday verifying what you made and that it was actually edible. Agreed?"

We nodded glumly and shuffled back our seats. This would be great fun. Already, images popped into my head of the three of us sitting at the dining table pouring over cookbooks from the library. We'll be laughing as we come up with the most elaborate meals possible. I can hardly wait. I'll make sure Esme includes in her note what a wonderful bonding experience this was for her and her two little future housewives.

***What did you think? Please R & R!**


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